Fools Like Us
by SayaLeigh
Summary: Human AU. What starts out as a normal Friday night for the "Bad Touch Trio" soon becomes an opportunity for Francis to use his favorite word in reference to his best friends. Unfortunately, Gilbert and Antonio couldn't possibly have fallen for people who would return their feelings easily, but Francis is determined to help them out despite his own relationship-or lack thereof.
1. Beware the Danger

**A/N: **Finally posting my first Hetalia fic! This one has a few chapters in reserve, so hopefully there won't be a long hiatus like Abandoned Driveways had. Also, I actually have a beta on this and time to edit, but if you notice any spelling/grammar errors or inconsistencies, please let me know!

This is Spamano, PruAus, and France/Jeanne d'Arc with background/implied other pairings. Human AU. Title comes from "Fools Like Me" by Vanessa Carlton and the chapter titles are the lyrics.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia or "Fools Like Me".

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**1-Beware the Danger**

"You can't do that! Ach! Toni, you bastard!" scowled Gilbert Beilschmidt, leaning to the side as if it would help him guide his virtual car around the bright yellow one that had cut him off.

"No? But the game let me do it," Antonio Fernandez defended himself, frowning at the game as if it had lied to him.

"It's just common decency!" Gilbert snapped back even as his own red-and-black car attempted to nudge Antonio's off the road on the screen.

Behind them, the third friend rolled his eyes and swept his long blond hair away from his face. "Mes amis, I think you've been playing that game too long. We're all going to die of starvation if you don't order something, Antonio. And Gilbert, you have no decency, common or otherwise."

Gilbert stuck his tongue out at Francis Bonnefoy for his comments, but it quickly turned into a pout as Antonio followed Francis' advice and paused the game. Antonio ignored him, searching through the pillows spread out on the floor around them for his phone. He finally located it and hit the fourth number on his speed-dial-the pizza place down the street.

While he ordered, Francis and Gilbert located their own phones and checked through their messages. The three had been holed up in Antonio's house all afternoon since his parents were out of town. Francis had said something about throwing a party, but in the end, they spent the night like every other weekend, playing video games in Antonio's basement. Gilbert, as always, was a sore loser.

Gilbert flipped through his texts lazily. There were several from his overprotective younger brother, mostly about whether the trio was going to actually get a decent meal that night, when Gilbert would be home, and other pedantic details that Gilbert didn't care much for. He did send one text back to soothe Ludwig's nerves, however. The other texts he ignored, deeming the people who had sent them to be less awesome than the two he was already with. They were mostly about homework anyway, and Gilbert never troubled himself much with things like that.

Francis, meanwhile, had surprisingly few texts. He preferred to use his phone only for those close to him, though his email was open to anyone and everyone and was connected to his phone through one of several apps. He scrolled through the emails, but decided they could wait until he left or the others went back to the game. His philosophy had always been that the people he was with deserved all his attention. He took the time to reply to his mother and his friend Jeanne, then tucked the device back into his pocket.

Simultaneously, the three flopped back onto the couch. Without looking at either of his friends, Antonio suddenly asked, "Do either of you ever get tired of doing the same thing every weekend?"

"What? No way!" Gilbert declared, sitting up to give Antonio an incredulous look. His eyes betrayed him, however. They darted around the small, dark room, restless and dissatisfied.

"Of course," Francis answered simply, twirling his long hair around his index finger. He didn't mind being with his friends, of course, but he did wish they could find a new activity every once in a while.

They lapsed back into their own silent thoughts. Gilbert fiddled with the controller he still held, but the TV was turned off.

The silence continued until the bell rang, signaling the arrival of the pizza. Gilbert jumped up to answer it while the other two trailed behind him, Antonio searching through his pockets for his wallet.

Gilbert flung the door open hard enough that it bounced against the wall, coming back in a valiant attempt to crush Francis, who stopped it with a slender, pale hand. Antonio peered around Gilbert to see the pizza boy, his eyes widening as they took in the sight.

The boy was shorter than the trio, and his terrible posture caused him to appear even shorter. He had soft-looking, straight, dark red-brown hair and vibrant, challenging hazel eyes. His skin was tan and perfect, a rosy tint coloring his cheeks. His face was petulant and feminine, and the look he fixed the trio suggested he wanted nothing more than to go home for the night.

"Nice to see you, Lovino," Francis spoke suddenly, drawing Antonio's attention. The blond was watching the pizza boy with a fond expression, recognition and familiarity clear in his crystalline blue eyes. Francis knew a lot of people, but Antonio couldn't help but be especially curious as to how he knew this particular character.

"Che, of course I'd have to see you," the newcomer retorted, any possibility of a friendly, customer-facing demeanor dissolving with the mutual recognition.

Gilbert, on the other hand, wasn't watching the exchange. He didn't even seem to be listening. Instead, he was leaning out the door, staring intently at the house next door. Antonio didn't know his neighbors particularly well, but he'd heard that the girl had been childhood friends with Gilbert.

Tonight, however, Gilbert's attention wasn't focused on her. Instead, he was staring at the figure standing on the front porch with her. The two were looking up at the stars, Elizaveta pointing out constellations to her new stepbrother.

It was the stepbrother, Roderich, that Gilbert found his eyes drawn to. The boy was a few inches shorter than him and had a delicate build. Their shared gym class had informed Gilbert that he tired easily, but there were rumors that he was an excellent pianist. Despite his own feminine appearance, girls flocked to Roderich no matter what he did.

Gilbert had only met the boy when he and Elizaveta had moved in next to Antonio with their newly-married parents a few months back. He and Liza had picked up their old friendship right where they'd left off, but he couldn't seem to reconcile her brother into the equation. The third party added tension to the relationship and Gilbert still wasn't sure how he felt about the kid. Making up his mind, he left his friends with the pizza boy and began marching across the space between Antonio's house and the one next door.

"Gilbert?" Francis asked as the albino slipped away from them. He pushed out past Lovino to watch Gilbert move away, watching over him like a mother hen.

Lovino cleared his throat, frowning up at Antonio. Antonio offered a bright smile. He recognized Lovino now; the younger boy was in one of his classes, but he mostly kept to himself.

Instead of returning the smile, Lovino scowled at him suspiciously. "Are you going to pay, or are we going to stand here all night?"

Antonio blinked, suddenly remembering why the other was there. He'd been so fascinated by him that he'd managed to forget the reason for his presence. "Oh, sure," he laughed, reaching for his wallet, "Your name is Lovino, right?"

"What gave that away?" Lovino retorted sarcastically, "Surely not my nametag. Or my idiot cousin." Francis frowned over his shoulder at the remark, faking a deeply hurt demeanor.

Antonio chuckled, finding himself drawn in by the fiery personality and the gorgeous, flashing eyes. "I'm Antonio," he told the other, "I think we have History together."

Lovino rolled his eyes, but the way his lips tightened into a thin line suggested he had realized where Antonio was going with this line of conversation. "Fantastic, let's be buddies and trade notes in class," he snorted sarcastically, "Or not. I like that option. Now, will you fucking pay me so I can get out of here?"

Flinching slightly at the tone, Antonio handed over a twenty and tried one last time. "I can give you my number if you want to get together sometime and work-"

"No." Lovino cut him off flatly, glaring at Antonio as he tucked the money into the designated bag he carried and began to sort out his change.

"Ah, but Lovino," Francis began, turning to face them with a grand gesture, "Why would you ever try to escape the beauty of young lo-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Lovino snapped, cutting his cousin off as his cheeks flared bright red. He turned without another word, stomping down the steps of the porch. His shoulders were tense, and he didn't look back as he slipped into his car and drove away. Antonio frowned at the taillights until they turned the corner and disappeared.

Meanwhile, Gilbert was oblivious to the scene unfolding behind him. When he was close enough to the other house, he called out to get Elizaveta and Roderich's attention.

Elizaveta looked surprised to see him, though there weren't many other places he could be found on a Friday night other than Antonio's house. Once the surprise wore off, she smiled brightly and swept her long brown hair over one shoulder.

Roderich, on the other hand, turned his nose up at the lower-class boy. He turned away to fiddle with his phone, leaving his stepsister to deal with the albino nuisance. He'd never admit it, but he couldn't help but fear that even the slightest interaction would be the first step to giving away everything he'd spent years hiding from his prim and proper mother. She was usually very accepting, but Roderich couldn't help but fear that one day he would overstep even her boundaries.

"What are you doing over here?" Elizaveta asked curiously, leaning against the porch railing to peer down at Gilbert.

"I wondered what you and the sissy-boy found so interesting up there," Gilbert replied nonchalantly, gesturing vaguely up at the sky, "Haven't seen any UFOs, have you?"

Roderich's shoulders stiffened at the nickname, but he refused to turn. Elizaveta rolled her eyes and sighed. "Gil," she began warningly.

Before Gilbert could continue his teasing or Elizaveta could continue her reprimanding, Francis' voice called out from behind Gilbert, "Hey, quit bullying them and come eat."

Gilbert scowled but starting to turn, giving Elizaveta a short wave. He stopped suddenly, as if he'd forgotten something.

"Hey, Roddy," he called, waiting until the brunet reluctantly turned around before he continued, "Try not to think about me too much tonight!" He accompanied the comment with a waggle of his pale brows, smirking at the blush it brought to the other boy's face.

"Your vulgarity is not amusing," Roderich mumbled in a tone Gilbert was sure he had intended to be reprimanding. Unfortunately, the blush and obvious discomfort took away from the effect. Feeling smug, Gilbert turned and ran back to Antonio's place, jumping over the steps and catching the door that Francis held open for him.

Glancing back before he disappeared into the depths of the house, he caught Roderich's brilliant violet eyes. Feeling pleased with the effect he was clearly having on the stuffy prick, he smirked widely in return.

Having watched both exchanges, Francis smiled fondly to himself. He was always pleased to see the seeds of love being planted and couldn't help the urge to help them along. He waited until Gilbert and Antonio had both turned their backs, then quickly slipped his phone from his pocket.

_They grow up so fast, don't they?_ he typed, hitting send before the others could catch him.

Moments later, his phone vibrated with a reply. _What are you talking about?_ read the innocent message.

_Gil and Toni are in loooove~_ Francis sent back, feeling giddy at the idea of finally being able to use his favorite word in reference to his best friends.

When it came, Jeanne's reply got straight to the point. _Tell me everything. How much help are they going to need?_

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**A/N: **This is the part where the lonely author begs for reviews.


	2. It Lurks For Those Who Get Swept Away

**A/N: **Wow, Saya's actually getting things posted on time? I know, it's shocking. I guess this is what happens when I try to avoid my real life problems, no?

My beta didn't get a chance to read over this chapter, so if you notice anything funky, please tell me! Enjoy~!

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**Fools like Us**

2-It Lurks For Those Who Get Swept Away

Antonio frowned at the dusty spines of the books on the shelf in front of him. He couldn't seem to find the book that had been assigned for his class. He was wondering if someone else had already gotten to the copies the library had when he rounded the corner to find a welcome sight.

A boy was sitting alone at the tables, the sun glinting off his dark red-brown hair in soft halo. His beautiful hazel eyes were narrowed at his books and he was gnawing on his lower lip. He tapped his eraser lightly against his papers in time to the bouncing of his feet.

Antonio learned against the bookshelf, taking advantage of a moment when the younger wasn't glaring at him. A tiny smile passed across his lips. Finally, he took the few last steps into the clearing between the shelves, revealing himself to the younger boy.

Lovino's head snapped up, his eyes wide. His hair was tousled from where he'd been running his fingers through it as he worked. A stray lock clung to the side of his face, accentuating the full curve of his cheeks. Antonio's heart fluttered at the disheveled beauty before him.

"_¡Buenos__ días__!_" he greeted cheerfully, raising one hand in a tiny wave. He smiled fondly at the other, hoping the positive expression would smooth over the shocked one the other still wore.

Instead, Lovino's features morphed into a scowl. "What the hell do you want?" he demanded. His fingers twitched as if he was tempted to grab up all his books and leave the room before Antonio even had the chance to respond.

"Well, I came to the library looking for a book," the Spaniard told him honestly, "but I found you instead! Isn't that a great turn of events?"

"Hardly," Lovino snorted. He sat back moodily in the uncomfortable wooden chair, glaring at everything except Antonio.

Throwing caution to the wind, Antonio pulled out the seat across from Lovino and sat. The Italian watched him suspiciously, but refrained from speaking. Antonio pulled the papers across to himself, looking over them to see that it was homework for the one class they had together. Lovino was apparently having trouble with it, which, luckily for Antonio, gave them a reason to see each other more often.

He opened his mouth to offer his assistance again, but Lovino snatched the papers back before he could manage the first syllable. The younger boy's cheeks flared a bright, almost unnatural red, and he had Antonio fixed with the most malicious glare the older brunet had ever seen.

"If you wanted to work on that sometime-" he began, but Lovino cut him off with a snarl.

"No, I don't, you stupid bastard," he growled, "I can do it just fine on my own; I don't need anyone's help."

Antonio watched silently as Lovino swept everything off the table and into his bag, his cheeks still tinted with a deep pink. Once all the papers had been contained the Italian stormed off, and after a moment's hesitation, Antonio followed.

Lovino glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes when he saw that the taller boy was right on his heels. He stopped and turned, glaring up at the other.

"What the hell is your problem?" he snarled, his accent becoming stronger with his anger. He wasn't used to being the center of anyone's attention, especially not that of an attractive, nosy bastard he heard the ladies gossiping about constantly. He had absolutely no intention of associating with Antonio. For one, he would only be reminded daily that his friends and his brother were better looking than he was, and his ego was sensitive enough as it was.

Antonio blinked at him, looking innocently confused.

"No problem," Antonio told him easily, "I just think we should spend time together." He flashed a bright smile at Lovino, but it only darkened the Italian's expression.

"Bullshit," Lovino grumbled. He flipped Antonio off and turned to walk away again, hoping the Spaniard wouldn't follow. As usual, luck was not with him, and another set of footsteps was quick to follow his own.

He was considering his options for ditching the other when an all too familiar voice called out for his attention. He groaned, his heart sinking, and reluctantly turned to face his brother. Feliciano was skipping up the hallway towards him, dragging his boyfriend, Ludwig, behind him. The German looked about as excited about their impending reunion as Lovino was.

Antonio looked curiously between Lovino and the almost identical boy charging up the hall toward them. He recognized the blond in tow as Gilbert's brother, but he wasn't familiar with the newcomer. Still, he flashed a bright smile. If he had anything to do with Lovino, he figured it was better to make a good impression.

"Ciao," the newcomer gasped out as he reached them, grinning, "Lovino, who's this?"

Lovino rolled his eyes at his brother's curiosity, though he supposed he couldn't blame him. "Some idiot friend of Francis'. Why do you always have to bring that potato bastard everywhere you go?"

Feliciano ignored Lovino's familiar complaining and turned to the taller brunet. His eyes sparkled with curiosity about this person who seemed more than willing to brave his brother's constant bad temper. "Hi," he chirped, "I'm Feliciano, Lovino's brother. Who are you?"

"_Hola_, Feli," the other smiled brightly, "My name is Antonio."

Antonio extended his hand to shake Feliciano's, but the small Italian brushed it aside and threw his arms around Antonio instead. The Spaniard figured it was just a part of his bubbly personality until a low voice in his ear whispered, "Good luck getting through to Lovi. You like him, _si_?"

Antonio nodded, gazing fondly over Feliciano's shoulder at the back of Lovino's head. Satisfied, Feliciano released him.

"How are you, Antonio?" Ludwig asked. His tone was characteristically stiff and formal, but the smile that crossed his features was warm and familiar.

Antonio grinned brightly at his best friend's younger brother. "I'm great, Lud! _¿__Y__ tu__?_" he practically sang.

Ludwig nodded in response, blushing slightly as he glanced at Feliciano. The younger had returned to pestering his brother once he had released Antonio, but, as if he felt eyes on him, he glanced up and smiled at Ludwig, his golden-brown eyes lighting up with warmth that Antonio recognized from association rather than experience. Francis would have swooned at the sight of it.

Lovino looked back and forth between the group, frowning at the happiness and smiles going around. His brow furrowed with frustration. Finally, growling to himself, he stomped his foot and turned away from the group.

"Hey-Lovi!" Antonio called after him. Loud, quick footsteps quickly followed, and a glance over his shoulder told Lovino that they belonged to his brother rather than the Spaniard. Antonio and Ludwig stayed in place, watching quizzically as Feliciano chased his brother down. Heaving a sigh, Lovino slowed and waited for Feliciano to catch up with him.

"Hey, _fratello_," Feliciano began innocently, "What's up with you? Why would you just leave your friend like that?"

Lovino growled to himself under his breath. "He's not my friend," he tried to explain, though Feliciano's expression told him the other wasn't buying it, "He's just some creep who likes to follow me around."

Feliciano giggled, a sound that never sat well with Lovino. "That's what Luddy thought about me at first," the younger teased, his warm brown eyes dancing with mischief.

"Well, you and that Spanish bastard should get along just fine," Lovino retorted, "Seeing as that's what you are. Both of you."

Feliciano gave him a patronizing smile, bringing another scowl to Lovino's lips. "'Vino," Feliciano began softly in a tone that was both gentle and quietly questioning, "Why do you try to push everyone away? If you would smile more, you would have so many friends!"

Lovino's scowl deepened. "I don't need your positive crap. Smiling is for idiots like you and that jerk," he snapped, gesturing wildly back at the Spaniard, who smiled and waved.

Feliciano frowned regretfully at his brother's reaction, but the damage had been done. Lovino turned and stormed off again, and this time, Feliciano didn't follow him. The older Italian could feel the familiar prick of tears threatening, but he pushed them away like he always did. If he cried every time someone or something suggested his brother's superiority, he would be suffering from dehydration by now. Instead, he resisted the urge and slipped into an empty classroom to compose himself before he had to return to face the world and his next class.

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**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time! I reply to all of them so it's totally worth doing, especially if there's something you want to see in this!

You can also talk to me or request drabbles on tumbr (ne-ne-spoopy-assbutt at the moment).


	3. The Dreamers Get Punished Most By the Tr

**A/N:** I know it's late but at least it's up!

I'm just really glad that I already had this done...I've been really busy with work lately and I'm actually exhausted and under the influence of a sleeping pill right now because I have the opening shift tomorrow and really need to sleep...

In other words, I should get on with it and let you read, no?

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**Fools Like Us**

3-The Dreamers Get Punished Most By the Truth

Francis frowned up at the pristine white outer walls of the hospital. He wasn't particularly fond of the place, but he spent more than his fair share of time here. He might have despised it less if he didn't feel as if it was holding one of his best friends captive.

"Are you okay?" asked Antonio softly from his side. The energetic Spaniard was unusually subdued, his eyes bright and honest as he watched Francis. A tentative, reassuring hand on Francis' shoulder gave a blond an emotional boost and he finally nodded, a small smile twisting the corners of his lips.

On his other side, Gilbert was equally solemn. His pale lips were pressed together in a tight frown and there was a look of discomfort in his ruby eyes. He'd had a few medical problems as a child and had his own reasons for hating hospitals, so his presence meant more to Francis than either of them would acknowledge.

Finally, Francis took a deep breath and forced a smile. Then, with every inch of him screaming to run in the other direction, he forced himself to begin the seemingly too long path up to the double doors of the hospital.

They slid open soundlessly as the trio approached. The nurses at the desk looked up. They recognized the boys, smiled in greeting, and returned to whatever various projects they had been working on.

With Francis leading the way, the three began their familiar trek through the winding, seemingly endless hallways until they reached one of the hundreds of nondescript doors. A tiny plaque on the wall next to the door read, in pristine, clinical white letters, "Arc, Jeanne."

With only a moment's hesitation, Francis raised his fist and knocked lightly on the door. A female voice answered from the other side, granting them permission to enter. They followed through quickly, smiling at the sight of their friend sitting up in her bed, smiling brightly back at them.

"_Bonjour, ma__ chérie_," Francis greeted in perfect French, bringing a warm smile to Jeanne's pale, thin lips.

She looked worse than usual, but seeing her sitting up was a welcome change. Her short, blonde hair was dull and mussed from the pillow, but it poofed around her head like a golden halo-a suitable image for the pure-hearted teenager. Her cheeks were hollow and there was a visible clamminess to her skin, but even that couldn't take away from her simple beauty.

"Francis," she greeted simply, leaning forward as though drawn in by his presence. She nodded in greeting to the other two, and they returned the gesture. Her attention quickly returned to the young man who shared her culture, however, and his friends backed inconspicuously from the room.

"How have you been?" Francis asked softly, as if he hadn't been to see her several times in the last week and texted her constantly the rest of the time.

Jeanne laughed, a light, bell-like sound that sent a rush of warmth through her companion.

"Don't play dumb," she chided, never one to play to the whims of others in conversation, "You know the answer to that."

Francis' cheeks warmed at the spirited retort, but he let it slide and perched on the edge of the narrow, pristine bed.

"What about you?" she asked when a comfortable silence had reigned for a few long moments.

Francis' bright blue eyes lit up, and he leaned in as if he had a secret. He practically squealed, "Gil and Toni are falling in love! Not with each other, but somehow at the same time!"

The light in Jeanne's eyes danced with mirth as she took in the information. "Are you going to tell me who they are now?" she demanded, her current, captive state making her hungry for news she usually let Francis concern himself with.

"Well," Francis began, sitting back again, "You remember Elizaveta, Gilbert's childhood friend?"

Jeanne nodded, watching Francis' face suspiciously for any sign that he was lying or making too much of a simple situation. "Yes..." she replied finally, "She just moved back to town, correct? He hasn't fallen for her, has he? I thought he wasn't interested in women."

"Non, non," Francis quickly corrected, absently waving away the notion with one hand, "He's taken an interest in her new stepbrother, Roderich Edelstein."

Jeanne let out a snort of laughter. Roderich was well known as a stuffy but talented young pianist. She wouldn't have thought a personality like that would even be worth Gilbert's attention, much less arouse the albino's interest.

"And Antonio?" she asked instead, choosing not to dwell on the situation that seemed to invite conflict.

Francis' smile turned warm and soft, the way it always did when he spoke about someone close to his heart. "Ah, Toni~" he sighed softly, "The poor boy has finally started to look at the available population, only for his innocent and misguided eyes to fall on my prickly young cousin, Lovino."

Jeanne couldn't help but frown in some confusion. She'd met Lovino only once, but to her he'd seemed the picture of a perfect gentleman.

Francis noticed her confusion and laughed softly. "Lovino tries very hard to convince himself that he only loves women. He treats them like the delicate, beautiful flowers they are, but with men he becomes the thorns. If Antonio is to win him over, it will be a long, difficult path."

Silence took over for a moment as Jeanne tried to reconcile this new information with the sweet younger boy she'd met before and Francis seemed to be musing over the situation itself.

"If anyone can get through to Lovi, it would be Antonio," Francis finally said softly, breaking the silence.

"You think?" Jeanne asked, frowning, "He seems so...Well, he's oblivious."

Francis chuckled softly. "I think that may work to his advantage," he admitted with an easy, practiced shrug.

Jeanne laughed again. She couldn't help but find Francis' friends strange, yet somehow refreshing. They all seemed so full of life, ambition, love...all things she knew she would be losing soon.

"Jeanne?" Francis asked suddenly, apparently noticing the sudden change in her demeanor. She looked up at him and smiled at his intense, beautiful, worried expression. The expression softened into an answering smile, and the older boy reached out and took her thin hand in his large, warm ones.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his eyes fixed on her delicate fingers. The artificial light glinted off his golden hair and downy eyelashes, giving him the look of a concerned angel. Jeanne smiled to herself at the thought.

"I'm fine," she assured him, "You don't have to worry."

"Are you s-" Francis began, but the look she gave him cut him off. He sat back with a sigh instead, his bright, clear eyes sweeping over her emaciated form for a moment.

"You look better," he told her finally, his voice and face honest, "Too thin, but...stronger."

Jeanne managed to smile. Francis never sugar-coated things like everyone else, and she found it to be a welcome change. She wanted to be just as honest in return, but the fear of hurting him stayed her tongue every time she opened her mouth.

"Thanks. I'm feeling stronger too," she lied now, smiling sweetly and deceptively at him. Something in his eyes told her he didn't buy it, but he kept his mouth shut.

"So," she began, returning to their earlier topic, "have either of them made a move on the new boys in town?"

Francis snorted. "If stalking them at school counts, then yes. They both seem to have decided that that would be the best course of action."

Jeanne rolled her eyes. That was typical of the two idiots, wherever they had disappeared to.

"What about you?" she asked suddenly, finally daring to dive into a topic that made her heart shiver at the mere thought of it.

The mirth drained from Francis' face as though a valve had been opened. His mouth worked fruitlessly, but in the end, he merely stared helplessly at the girl watching him with a mixture of hope and dread.

"Jeanne," he began weakly, his voice little more than a whisper, "I can't-"

She heaved a heavy sigh, cutting him off. Her own crystalline eyes were bright with pain as she looked back at him. "I know," she admitted finally.

Silence followed, edging as close to awkward as things ever came between the two young French descendants. Their tacit agreement to never discuss their lack of resolution over mutual attraction weighed heavily on their thin shoulders. It physically hurt Jeanne to push Francis away, but she was able to do it if she reminded herself of the pain he would feel when she finally died. They were too close already, but there was nothing she could do about that at this point-or, at least, nothing she was willing to do.

Finally, she coughed lightly, breaking the silence, "Anyway, what are you planning to do to help those two lovestruck idiots?"

Francis' face lit up again, enticed by romance he could interfere with. "Lovino is my cousin, and I have connections to the music club. I'm sure I could arrange a few, ah…'chance meetings.'" He grinned at the thought.

Jeanne answered with a tiny smile of her own. "I think that's a wonderful idea," she assured him forcefully, "You'd have to run your ideas by me, of course—everyone knows women have a sixth sense about these things."

Francis grinned as if he'd just been waiting to hear her say those very words. From the bag slung over his shoulder he pulled a well-used notebook known as his "Romantic Idea Planner" and the two of them quickly fell on the project, attacking it with all the ferocity of French romantic stereotypes.

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**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews so far! They really help with the whole motivation thing.

Also, AForceOfNature-you must be psychic because I had just finished writing some when I got your review. *pets* I like this one.


	4. They Say It's All In the Little Ways

**A/N: **You should all thank my friend Anthony because he is officially in charge of bothering me until I crank out new chapters and he does his job well. So, here's the chapter I promised like three weeks ago~!

Also, not-so-fun fact: My laptop has some fun new water damage so if I seem lazy, I'm sorry. I just really don't want to edit when all my t5ypi8ng co9me3s o9u7t5 li8ke3 t5hi8s.

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**Fools Like Us**

4-They Say it's All in the Little Ways

Lovino glared down at the paper in his hands, his hand shaking with the frustration welling up inside him. The grade glaring back at him from the top of the page seemed to mock him, and he didn't appreciate it.

Meanwhile, a few rows over, he could see his brother waving his paper at Ludwig. Feliciano seemed to be in a good mood, and the grade on his own paper seemed to be the reason. Feliciano was lazy but smart, and Lovino was jealous. He worked twice as hard, despite his own lazy moments, and only seemed to get half the reward.

Gathering his courage, he forced his gaze up to look across the room at his new acquaintance, Antonio.

Antonio seemed just as pleased with his results as Feliciano was. He had turned around in his desk chair to face Gilbert, who sat behind him. His paper was face-up on the desk, proudly displaying a passing mark. Lovino groaned to himself as he stared at it.

After passing their tests back, their teacher continued to drone on and on about whatever topic they were supposed to be covering that day. Lovino inadvertently tuned her out, worrying too much about the grade he'd just received to pay attention to the material he'd need to know for the next. Finally, after a long internal debate and several minutes of mentally berating himself, he resolved to take Antonio up on his offer to help. The older boy may have been sort of creepy, pushy, and determined, but he could help keep Lovino from falling too far behind Feliciano in their parents' eyes. He was also attractive, which would take some of the sting out of having to ask-not that Lovino would ever so much as mention that particular opinion to the Spanish boy.

Finally the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Lovino scrambled to pick up his things and catch up to Antonio, who was leaving the room with Gilbert. He was afraid to call out and attract everyone else's attention or that Feliciano would try to call him back, having the same effect. Luckily Feliciano was preoccupied with Ludwig, giving Lovino the chance to slip out of the room and catch Antonio by his sleeve. No one else in the room noticed his flight.

Antonio turned at the pressure, his bright green eyes widening in pleased surprise when he saw Lovino. Gilbert turned when his friend stopped, but grinned when he spotted the younger Italian and simply waved at Antonio before starting off down the hall.

"Hello, Lovi," Antonio chirped. Lovino took his bright attitude as a personal offense and scowled. He took a deep breath, reigning in his temper and pride.

Before he could speak, Antonio asked excitedly, "Are you going to ask me out?"

"N-no!" Lovino nearly shrieked without stopping to think, "You need to show me how to remember this shit!" He waved his paper in Antonio's face to indicate that he needed help without actually showing him the result.

Antonio looked slightly disappointed, but he smiled down at Lovino anyway. "So you're taking me up on my offer to help you?" he asked, his tone softer and more understanding than Lovino would have expected with his usual exuberance.

"S-something like that," Lovino admitted in a grumble.

Antonio smiled brightly and swung an arm around Lovino's shoulders. "Well, I'm free whenever you are," Antonio informed him brightly, though there was a note of simple honesty in his tone, "What about today?"

Lovino paused, actually thinking about the offer. He didn't want to seem too eager, but he also didn't want Feliciano to get any further ahead of him than he already was.

He opened his mouth to tell Antonio that the next day would be better, his pride winning over his rationality, and instead found himself saying, "Y-yeah, whatever. Today works."

He cursed himself mentally even as Antonio's face lit up like he'd just been told Christmas was coming twice this year.

_"__¡__Fantástico!_ My locker is 1423; meet me there after school, okay?"

He pranced off to his next class, leaving Lovino nodding dumbly, still berating himself. He watched the cheerful brunet for a few moments before finally sighing and heading in the opposite direction.

Gilbert, meanwhile, was pushing his way toward his next class when he found himself stuck in a crowd slowly moving away from a room he spent more time screwing around in that actually working-the music room.

He scowled up at the doors. When he was on the other side, he usually ended up being told, "You'll never be a rock star and that's not the kind of music we play in here anyway get out Beilschmidt!" Needless to say, it didn't leave a very good impression. The crowd, however, was definitely of interest.

"He's so good, isn't he?" commented one girl, her blue eyes sparkling as she swept her long hair over her shoulder.

"He's incredible!" her short-haired friend agreed, "I heard he plays professionally!"

"What's he doing here then?" the first girl asked. The other shrugged and the two continued on their way. The other conversations around Gilbert came to him in bits and pieces. They were along the same lines, piquing his curiosity. He shuffled through the crowd until he reached the doors and slipped inside.

There were a few students preparing their instruments against the wall, but Gilbert could tell with a glance that they weren't the topic of conversation in the hallway. No, it had to have been Roderich, who sat at the piano. His face was serene and composed, and his long, thin fingers danced over the keys, creating a familiar, soothing tune that Gilbert couldn't place at first.

He considered striding up and throwing an arm around Roderich's shoulders, but something convinced him to wait. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall, a small smirk playing across his face.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" a familiar voice asked suddenly and cheerfully at his side, drawing his attention.

He looked down to see his brother's adorable boyfriend, Feliciano. He smirked at the younger boy, nodding towards Roderich. "Heard there was someone causing a stir in here. That's my job, y'know."

Feliciano frowned, not understanding Gilbert's meaning. He seemed to accept it though-according to Ludwig, that was sometimes the only way to deal with Gilbert. Feliciano went back to tuning his violin and Gilbert continued to watch the brunet at the piano.

Roderich's face was serene and composed as his long fingers raced over the keys. Gilbert had never seen his face so calm and he could feel himself relaxing in response. He knew his own class would be starting soon, but he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. He'd been feeling the stress of school and raising Ludwig quite a bit the last few weeks, but something about Roderich's playing soothed him.

"Beilschmidt! Get out of here!" the familiar, scolding voice of the choir teacher snapped at him as the bell rang. He had a broom in one hand, and Gilbert decided to avoid the possibility that it could be used on him. He'd found that the morals of teachers tended to be a bit looser when it came to chronic troublemakers.

He shot the man a wide, conciliatory grin, patting Feliciano on the head as his excuse for being in the room.

With one last glance at Roderich, whose hands had stalled, he quickly slipped out of the room.

He didn't see the brunet's head jerk up when the door closed behind him. The violet eyes were wide and conflicted, and Roderich's breath had caught in excitement.

No one else seemed nearly as interested in the albino's presence as he was. Apparently Gilbert was a constant intruder, coming in at least once a week to screw around with instruments that didn't belong to him. Roderich's heart sank, causing him to curse himself internally, and he was about to turn back to the piano when a young Italian slid onto the bench next to him.

He peered up at Roderich with curious amber eyes, and Roderich simply blinked back at him. He knew the boy played the violin-quite well, actually-but he couldn't say he actually knew his name.

"Why was Gil here to see you?" he asked, his innocent words bringing a blush to Roderich's pale, aristocratic face.

"H-he wasn't," Roderich insisted, looking away, "He comes here often, doesn't he?"

"_Si_," the boy replied, tilting his head, "but he didn't come to make trouble today. He just watched you."

Roderich's blush intensified, and he didn't respond. He tried to come up with another reason for Gilbert's presence, but he didn't know the other well enough.

"Feliciano!" someone called suddenly, drawing the Italian's attention, "can you come help me tune this?"

"_Si!"_ the boy, Feliciano, replied brightly, shooting Roderich one more curious glance before moving away to help the girl.


	5. One Reveals Their Love's Gone Away

**Fools Like Us**

5-One Reveals Their Love's Gone Away

"So, the stuffy piano guy is your new bro?" Gilbert asked, grinning at Elizaveta as he locked his fingers behind his head. They were out behind the school where Elizaveta sat in the shade of a tall, leafy tree, smiling up at her childhood best friend.

"Yes, although I think he'd prefer if you called him Roderich," she told him, ignoring his snort of contempt, "My father met his mother in France."

Gilbert grumbled something about "stupid rich people and their privileges" as he settled down next to the slender brunette. He rolled his eyes as he moved her skirt to avoid sitting on it.

"Why do you wear this kind of stuff?" he asked, his tone derisive. He held the fabric between two fingers as though there was something disgusting about it.

Elizaveta snatched it from him, frowning. "What's wrong with my clothes?" she asked, sounding more challenging than hurt.

"Why can't you just wear normal clothes like you used to?" he asked, nonplussed by her sudden attitude.

"In other words, you think I should dress like a boy again?" She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Gilbert looked bewildered. "Is that so bad?" he asked, confused, "I thought most girls were wearing pants these days!"

Elizaveta whacked him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. "I got enough of that. I thought I was a boy, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Gilbert replied, rubbing his stomach.

"Still gay?"

"Still gay."

They fell into silence. Elizaveta couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. She knew she'd been Gilbert's first crush when they both thought she was a boy. It hadn't been too hard for him to come to terms with his feelings, but facing the issue of his sexuality had been harder. He'd been terrified to find that his interest in Elizaveta had lessened when they'd hit puberty and realized she was a girl. By now, however, he'd dealt with the issue long enough to be comfortable with his interests.

Gilbert let his head fall onto Elizaveta's shoulder, closing his bright crimson eyes. He'd missed her and had been afraid he'd never see her again.

"Don't fall asleep on me," she warned him, her tone exasperated. He simply grunted in response, making himself comfortable.

"Eliza?" asked a familiar, smooth voice.

Gilbert's eyes snapped open and he sat up so fast he felt dizzy for a moment. Elizaveta chuckled, a knowing gleam in her bright green eyes.

"Over here, Roderich!" she called, leaning around the tree to see her stepbrother and wave him over.

The brunet looked relieved at first, but he froze when he spotted Gilbert. The two stared at each other for a moment before Roderich coughed softly, composing himself.

"Hey Roddy," Gilbert greeted weakly in a tone he had obviously intended to be teasing.

"Gilbert," came the stiff response. Roderich sat on Elizaveta's other side, his movements shaky and awkward. The Hungarian girl glanced back and forth between them, a pleased smirk spreading across her face.

Gilbert, on the other hand, frowned at the response his greeting had gotten. Forgetting his nervousness, he leaned around Elizaveta and winked. "Remembering my name, huh?" he began, mentally kicking himself, "That's a good start."

Roderich blushed, but otherwise seemed composed as he raised an eyebrow in response. "I could say the same to you," he retorted smoothly, "In fact, you've already moved on to nicknames, it seems."

Gilbert blinked in surprise at the other, whose aristocratic features were surprisingly composed, despite the blush spreading across his cheeks. Slowly, an eager grin began to take over his own expression.

"Oh yeah, Specs, I'm laying down the path to taking you home with every word," he teased, earning a roll of Roderich's clear, beautiful eyes.

"As if you could 'take me home,'" the brunet told him primly, his eyes sweeping over Gilbert's form with a clearly judgmental air.

"Oh, I dunno..." Gilbert replied with false thoughtfulness, shifting so Elizaveta wasn't blocking his view anymore, "I have most of the popular Disney movies."

For a moment, there was silence. Roderich looked too surprised to respond. After a moment, however, laughter broke through his stoic appearance. Gilbert couldn't help but smile, enjoying the effect of his teasing-or really, he supposed it could be called flirting.

A similar smile had spread across Elizaveta's face as she watched the two of them. Now, however, she chose to clear her throat, grabbing their attention.

"I just remembered," she lied, "I promised Feliciano I would help him with that homework assignment he was having trouble with. Sorry!" She pushed herself to her feet and hurried away with a quick wave. It wasn't until she reached the school building that she looked back, hiding in the cover of a wall that didn't seem to serve any real purpose.

The two boys were still under the tree. They sat facing each other, Gilbert propped up by his arms and Roderich leaning against the tree. It looked like Roderich was smiling from where she stood, but she couldn't see his expression clearly, and she couldn't see Gilbert's expression at all.

In fact, the albino was grinning at the brunet with a mixture of curiosity, interest, and a hint of lecherousness. Roderich was, in fact, smiling at him, but there was an element of shyness to it.

"So? What about it?" Gilbert continued, picking up where they'd left off when Elizaveta's departure had interrupted them.

"What about what?" Roderich asked, looking genuinely confused. He'd never admit it, but he'd gotten caught up in his own thoughts and fantasies about what direction this conversation could take. Now, Gilbert seemed to be expecting an answer, and Roderich had no idea which one to give him.

Gilbert snorted, rolling his crimson eyes. "Coming over!" he reminded the other, "Watching movies and all that. Dude, I even have _The Black Cauldron_!"

Roderich stared at him, nonplussed. "I've never heard of that one," he admitted, earning a scandalized look from the boy in front of him.

"Okay, now you don't have a choice," he insisted, "You're coming to watch it."

Roderich raised an eyebrow. "I am?" he challenged. His heart was pounding, but he chose to ignore it. He knew better than to let himself get involved with someone-anyone, really, but especially someone like Gilbert. He was so full of life; people like that were dangerous to people like Roderich.

"Yeah!" Gilbert continued, oblivious to his discomfort, "I mean, it's so underappreciated! Someone's got to get the word out!" He grinned, suddenly leaning forward into Roderich's personal space.

"So?" he asked, "What do you say Roddy? Marathon at my place?" His crimson eyes held a mixture of hope and arrogance, and part of Roderich wanted nothing more than to give in.

"Are you asking me out?" he asked instead, stalling for time.

Gilbert's grin disappeared and the color drained from his face. "I, uh..." he began eloquently, "Sure, I guess. Why not?"

"In that case, no," Roderich replied bluntly. Gilbert thought he might have heard a slight quiver of uncertainty in his voice, but his deadpan expression convinced him that he must have been mistaken.

Gilbert's jaw dropped in surprise. Since Roderich had brought it up, he'd thought there was no way he'd refuse. He wouldn't admit it, but it did sting a little. A pout twisted his lips, and he sat back slightly, giving Roderich space.

There was a silence between them for several long, awkward moments.

"A-alright, then," Gilbert said finally, pushing himself to his feet, "I'll, um...I'll leave you alone then."

He turned and walked away, holding his head high in hopes that no one could see how much being rejected hurt him. It wasn't as if it was the first time, but there was something about Roderich that made it hurt worse. He cursed himself as he suddenly realized he didn't even know if Elizaveta's brother was interested in other guys.

With his cheeks on fire, he set off to find Francis. He didn't see Roderich watching him walk away, curling in on himself with self-hatred and the regret of denying himself what he wanted when it was right in front of him.

Gilbert found Francis in the middle of an otherwise deserted hallway. Despite his "social butterfly" attitude, his friends knew that the blond often sought solitude. He was currently perched on a wide windowsill, looking out the window across the back field where Gilbert had been less than five minutes ago.

"Trouble, mon ami?" Francis asked without looking at him as Gilbert slumped onto the opposite side of the sill.

The albino scoffed and muttered, "You could say that."

Francis looked up then, his bright blue eyes taking in his friend's sullen appearance. He observed in silence for a moment before asking gently, "What happened?"

Gilbert's face flared red again as his embarrassment and shame came flooding back. "I, um..." he began awkwardly, "I was sort of flirting with him and asked him to come over. I wasn't really thinking about it, but then he asked if it was a date and I said sure, y'know? Because I really, really like him and I thought I had a chance for some stupid reason!"

By the time he finished he was out of breath and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. The shade of his face would have matched the irises. Francis couldn't help but smile at the flustered state of the boy that many other students thought was so cool.

"He said no then?" Francis asked, confirming where he thought the story was going.

Gilbert nodded, hiding his face. He waited for Francis to continue. The blond had probably been watching and could tell him how Roderich had laughed or flipped him of as he walked away or something.

"Judging by the way he was acting," the blond began instead, "I would have expected things to be the other way around."

Gilbert lifted his head from his arms, giving his friend a confused look. Francis was gazing at him steadily, a look in his eyes that Gilbert couldn't interpret.

"He curled up like you'd said something terrible to him," Francis explained patiently, "If he told you no, he must have a reason, non?"

Gilbert looked out the window without answering. He could see Roderich, still sitting under the tree. He did seem to have curled in on himself; his arms were wrapped around his knees and his face was buried against them. Gilbert's expression softened as he looked down at the young pianist.

Finally, he hummed in agreement to Francis' earlier statement.

"So?" Francis asked, lifting his eyebrows in a way that suggested he was waiting for an answer.

"'So' what?" Gilbert asked, tilting his head in confusion.

The blond rolled his eyes. "Are you going to just give up on him?" he asked, "Or are you going to find out what makes him tick?"

Gilbert blushed lightly even as a grin took over his face. "I'll figure him out," he assured Francis, "What kind of friend would I be if I let him wallow in self-pity forever?"

Francis chuckled, shaking his head. He couldn't help but feel that Roderich was in good hands, whether he-or the majority of people at their school-thought so or not.


	6. When My Hand Was In Your Hand

**Fools Like Us**

6-When My Hand Was In Your Hand

"This is where your house?"

Lovino looked up at the bright yellow building, raising an eyebrow. Suddenly, the Spaniard's overwhelmingly positive personality seemed to make sense.

"Si," Antonio chirped, smiling down at him, "You've been here before, remember?"

"Si, but it could have been Beilschmidt's…" Lovino retorted moodily, looking away stubbornly.

Antonio reached for Lovino's hand, but the Italian pulled it away. He frowned, but shook it off and led the way up to the shiny red door. Lovino almost expected there to be a Spanish flag hanging over the door.

Antonio unlocked and opened the door, stepping into the open foyer and holding the door for Lovino. The younger boy glanced around, finding the layout pleasing to the eye. He began to relax even as Antonio closed the door behind him, shutting him into an unfamiliar place.

"Are you hungry?" Antonio asked, dropping his bag near the stairs, "I'm sure I have some churros or something."

"I guess," Lovino admitted, shrugging. He refused to let on that his mouth watered at the mere mention of food.

Antonio smiled knowingly anyway, disappearing into a room painted a rich, bright red. Lovino followed him, feeling out of place. He kept his backpack on his shoulders; it was the one thing in this place that was actually familiar.

Antonio had bent down to look on one of the lower shelves in the pantry, and the first thing Lovino saw when he entered the room was Antonio's backside filling out his jeans better than any Lovino had ever seen.

He turned away with a heavy blush and pretended to be interested in a mural hanging on the wall. He swallowed around the lump that had risen in his throat, trying to control his blush before he had to face the elder boy again.

"Lovino?" came Antonio's questioning voice.

Taking a deep breath, Lovino turned to face him. He stood with a plate of churros in one hand and a nonplussed expression on his face.

"Are you feeling alright?" the Spaniard asked, stepping forward and pressing the back of his hand against Lovino's forehead.

"I'm fine! Don't touch me, idiota," Lovino complained, pushing his hand away.

Antonio sighed but let it go, offering the Italian the plate of churros instead. Trying not to look too eager, Lovino plucked a few from the pile on the plate. Antonio smiled as he watched Lovino pop one end into his mouth.

"So," Antonio began, setting the plate down after taking a couple churros for himself, "What part do you not understand?"

He tilted his head curiously, looking honest and interested. Lovino couldn't help but trust him for this, despite his misgivings about Antonio's common sense. He sighed, shifting his bag on his shoulder.

"All those maps don't make any sense," he grumbled, "I don't see why any of these people would want to have anything to do with each other. And why do the Americans always come barging in?"

Antonio couldn't help but smile at the Italian's cute, pouty expression. He wanted to reach out and pet his hair until the grumpiness cleared up, but he knew Lovino wouldn't appreciate the gesture. Instead, he motioned for the boy to follow him and made his way down the stairs to his room, picking up his own bag on the way.

Antonio's room, like the outside of the house, was painted a bright, cheerful yellow. His bed was pushed up against the wall; it was covered with a light blue duvet with a blanket featuring the Spanish flag folded over the end. There was a TV along the other wall with several game consoles and wires spread around it. Two red beanbags took up part of the floor, and a third, black one had been pushed into the corner. A small table near Antonio's bed was piled with dirty plates, mostly paper, causing Lovino to curl his lip at it. Antonio noticed and swept the paper plates into a tiny blue garbage can underneath the table, laughing sheepishly.

"Alright, how do you expect to help me?" Lovino asked with an irritable sigh, throwing himself and his bag onto Antonio's bed.

Antonio perched on the bed next to him, ignoring the glare he received. Instead, he asked, "Can I see what you have?"

Lovino heaved a put-upon sigh and dug his notebook from his bag. Loose papers stuck out at all angles and he sliced his thumb on one, hissing at the small flare of pain.

Antonio took his hand, holding it firmly when Lovino tried to shake him off. He examined the split in the skin with an unusually serious expression.

"Bastard, let go of me," Lovino grumbled, tugging at his hand again.

Antonio ignored him again, but finally released the limb with a small smile. "It's not bleeding," he pointed out uselessly, prompting Lovino to roll his eyes.

"Whatever," he grumbled, flipping open the notebook. Silence reigned for a few minutes as he searched for the disappointing quiz he must have stuffed in there.

One of the loose sheets fluttered to the floor, and Antonio leaned forward to pick it up. He glanced over the sheet before Lovino could snatch it back, and his eyebrows shot toward his hairline. Lovino grabbed it with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

As expected, it was the quiz he'd been looking for. He set the notebook off to the side, turning away from Antonio. He had no intention of turning back around until his cheeks cooled back to their usual tan.

Unfortunately for him, the Spaniard had never been particularly skilled at reading body language. He leaned forward, resting a hand on the other's shoulder, causing him to jump.

"Lovino," he asked gently, confused.

"What?" Lovino snapped, refusing to turn.

"Can I see that again?" Antonio asked. His hand left the other's shoulder as he reached for the heavily-corrected paper. Lovino froze as the Spaniard's toned chest pressed against his back.

"G-get off me!" Lovino managed to squawk finally, shoving Antonio off violently. Antonio pulled away, pain contorting his triumphant expression. Lovino found himself empty-handed and embarrassed.

Absently rubbing his abused chest, Antonio sat back to examine the pages again. Lovino focused on his lap; he could feel his cheeks heating up again and mentally cursed himself. For several long moments, there was no sound other than that of Antonio turning the pages in his hands.

"Wow, you really don't have a grasp of geography, do you?" the older boy commented finally. His tone was light and harmless, but Lovino could feel his temper flaring in response.

"Shut up and help me, you jerk!" he snapped, head-butting Antonio's shoulder.

"Whoa, calm down, Lovi!" Antonio yelped, trying to fend off the angry Italian. His breath caught momentarily as Lovino glared up at him through his long, dark lashes with fiery hazel eyes.

Antonio managed to smile down at him, holding him in place by his shoulders. Lovino's expression turned suspicious, waiting to see what the next step would be.

"Why don't we start with Italy?" Antonio offered, "That's where you're from, right?"

Lovino nodded slowly, beginning to relax again. "Si."

"Good!" Antonio chirped, releasing the other's shoulders to clap delightedly, "We can work for an hour, then take a break, no?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, fighting a smile. Instead of responding, he turned again and pulled his textbook from his bag.

"This is stupid," Lovino complained, not for the first time. He slumped to the side, but Antonio got in his way and he ended up resting against the older boy's shoulder.

"Well, it's been over an hour," Antonio replied, a note of fondness creeping into his voice. He closed their papers into the textbook and set it aside, careful not to disturb Lovino.

"Do you want to watch something?" Antonio asked, gesturing to the TV.

Lovino hummed tiredly. "Whatever's on," he replied, sounding sleepy, "Just don't put on something girly."

"Like cooking?" Antonio asked, trying to figure out where the other's boundaries were.

Apparently, he'd said the wrong thing. Lovino whacked him in the ribs and growled, "Cooking's not girly, asshole."

Antonio chuckled and found the remote with the arm that wasn't trapped by another body. He turned on the TV and found some action movie playing on the channel Gilbert had left it on.

"How's this?" he asked, ready to change it if Lovino wanted him to.

"Sure, whatever," the Italian replied, his tone bored. Antonio set the remote down and let the movie draw him in, enjoying the warmth pressed against his arm.

Several minutes passed before either of them spoke again. The movie, which was clearly American-made, was nearing the climax and the screen was filled with explosions. Antonio's eyes grew wide with wonder at the special effects.

"How do you think they did that?" he asked, turning to look at Lovino.

His breath caught for what felt the hundredth time in the last few hours.

Lovino had fallen asleep, his face still pressed against Antonio's shoulder. He breathed deeply, his eyelids fluttering as he dreamed. His shiny, straight hair was mussed from his earlier frustration and contact with his shoulder-pillow. His soft pink lips were parted slightly, and Antonio swallowed hard as the urge to kiss the other boy rose up in him.

He shook himself mentally and squirmed out from under Lovino, supporting him with both arms. He settled the younger boy onto the bed, supporting his head with his favorite decorative pillow-a large cotton tomato. He backed away, staring at the sleeping Italian with a strange lightness filling his chest. He found himself grinning stupidly and couldn't help but laugh at himself.

"Buenas noches," he murmured softly, brushing his lips lightly across Lovino's temple.


	7. My Heart Was Pure

**Fools Like Us**

7-My Heart Was Pure

Francis waited in the empty hallway, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for classes to be released for the day. He had flirted his way out of his own class and now stood waiting for the irritable Student Council president, Arthur Kirkland.

It had been Jeanne's idea to come, really. She'd come up with another of her brilliant ideas, and Francis couldn't help but pounce on it. As he waited for Arthur, his mind wandered back to the afternoon the idea had come to her.

_Jeanne leaned back against the pillows; the golden sunlight of late afternoon fell across the bed and restored her skin to its former honeyed shade. She was laughing, her tousled blonde hair falling over her face._

_Francis sat back in the chair next to the bed, smiling at her. The atmosphere was relaxed and the two teenagers enjoyed each other's presence._

_"Wow!" Jeanne gasped finally, trying to control her breathing, "Antonio really needs to watch himself with that kid, doesn't he?"_

_Francis nodded, his eyes still sparkling with mirth. "Of course," he chuckled, "my cousin has an adorable face, but his temper is somewhat less pleasing."_

_Jeanne leaned her head back, her smile fading as she seemed to be mulling over an idea. Finally, she asked, "You said Gilbert was going to be having some trouble with the pianist too, right?"_

_Francis nodded, wondering what she was getting at. She always had wonderful, creative ideas that had a tendency to take Francis' breath away. There was a moment of silence as she thought and he watched her._

_"Why don't you talk to Arthur about the school hosting a Valentine's dance?" Jeanne asked finally, naming the Student Council president, "He'd listen to someone he's known his whole life, right?"_

_Francis grimaced. He may have known the English boy for years, but that didn't mean Arthur would listen to him. After a moment, however__,__ his eyes lit up with sudden inspiration._

_"Oui__," he replied thoughtfully, a grin beginning to spread across his features, "I think he might be open to that idea."_

Now Francis found himself in the empty hallway, brought back to the current moment by the sound of the bell going off over his head.

He straightened up and waited until he spotted the messy blond hair and thick eyebrows of his sometimes-friend. He darted into the crowd and pulled Arthur away from his Japanese and American friends, dragging him back over to the wall.

"What the-!? Let go of me, Frog!" Arthur snapped, trying to pry Francis' fingers off his arm.

Francis rolled his eyes, ignoring the other's protests. "I have an idea for you, mon ami," he told the Brit, speaking over his protests.

Arthur snorted, glaring suspiciously up at the older French boy. His attempts to free his captive limb continued.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say," the shorter boy growled, his green eyes flashing.

"This school should have a Valentine's dance," Francis stated, ignoring Arthur's protests.

Arthur rolled his eyes. He was used to the French boy's constant efforts to encourage romance at school, and part of him felt as if he had a personal mission to stop Francis. He opened his mouth to tell Francis off when the French boy put a finger to his lips, leaning in conspiratorially.

"This could work to your advantage as well, you know," the long-haired blond murmured, his eyes flicking up to something over his head.

Arthur turned to follow his gaze, his face heating up when his eyes landed on his American friend, Alfred F. Jones. His gaze returned to Francis to find a pleased and knowing look waiting for him.

Arthur scowled. "A-absolutely not!" he snapped, determined not to let Francis find an advantage. If Alfred didn't know how Arthur felt, no one else needed to either.

Francis raised his eyebrows, sending a feeling of dread flooding through Arthur. Before the Brit could stop him, he looked up and called, "Alfred! Could you come here for a moment?"

The American, looking surprised, complied. Arthur, on the other hand, continued to glare daggers at the smirking Francis.

"Hey Francis," Alfred greeted with one of his typical, bright smiles, "Whataya need?"

"It's tragic, really," Francis began dramatically, schooling his face into an exaggeratedly disappointed expression, "You see, I think this school could use something to lift our spirits after a dreary winter-a dance, perhaps. Alas, it seems our great and powerful Student Council president would prefer to add more rain to our already dark days."

Arthur sputtered, trying to formulate a response, but neither seemed to be listening to him. Alfred's eyes widened for a moment and the color seemed to drain from his face, but he quickly recovered and turned to face Arthur. Arthur let out an internal groan at the eagerness on his face.

"Please, Artie?" Alfred begged, using the nickname despite knowing Arthur hated it, "I think it would be a great idea! I'll help you decorate and everything!"

Arthur could feel his resolve weakening under the intense blue gaze. He could still see Francis smirking at him from the corner of his eye, but Alfred's presence lessened the blow. Finally, he let out a long-suffering sigh.

"No aliens, alright?" he grumbled finally, shooting Francis another glare as he and Alfred cheered. After a few moments of being ignored once his consent had been obtained, Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and stomped away to meet Lukas and Vladimir, the other Student Council heads.

Once Arthur was out of sight, Francis slung an arm over Alfred's shoulders, pulling him in close.

"Good luck with that one, mon ami," he murmured into the American's ear.

Alfred blushed but grinned up at Francis, nodding.

"Thanks," he breathed sheepishly.

"Non, thank you," Francis replied with a grin, "But for once, I'm going to agree with Arthur-no aliens."


End file.
